Blurb

Life is a trial full of obstacles that stand between you and your goals. Do you have the courage to face your own trial?

Jace Garrison was a musical prodigy at Juilliard ready to take the world by storm. Everything he could ever want out of life was unfolding right before his eyes, until everything came crashing down at once.

With his muse gone, along with everything he loved, will Jace find the courage to move on?

Former Navy SEAL Gerard Ramhart had always played by his family’s rules and traditions. Until he fell in love with Riley Garrison. Unfortunately, before Gerard had the courage to propose to the man he loved, Riley’s life was taken away. Gerard was left devastated, with only his memories of Riley and the pain of losing him to keep him going.

One year after Riley’s death, Gerard finally makes it to Riley’s hometown in Abingdon, Virginia and meets his son Jace for the very first time. Two men grieving over the loss they shared, and during their time of heartache, something blossoms.

Can Gerard help Jace find the will to live the life he’s meant to have? And can Jace find his muse and accept his feelings for Gerard, despite the fact that Gerard once belonged to his father?

Excerpt

I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I sat up on his lap, his arms falling to his sides, but he remained motionless. I stared in awe as I began trailing my fingers up his body, from his hip bones, trailing along his defined abdominal muscles, up his pectorals feeling the tuffs of chest hair tickling the skin of my fingers. I continued from his collarbone and up his neck until my palms rested on the man’s cheeks. Gerard stirred, but never woke.

I tilted my head slightly and marveled at the man that once held my father’s heart, but now was quickly beginning to worm his way into mine. I wished I knew an artist who would be able to capture Gerard’s face on paper perfectly so that I could look at it every night after his trip in Abingdon was over. I didn’t want to think of him leaving. I just wanted to revel in the stunning work of art that was Gerard Ramhart. All man, all muscle, and how I wanted him to be mine. I wasn’t afraid to admit it to myself anymore. I wanted him, so fucking bad; but would he ever be mine? Would I ever get to feel what it was like to be his? Would I ever know what it was like to have his lips on mine?

Instinctively, my thumbs began running along his dark thickly grown beard and then to his lips. I remembered that moment when he was stepping out of the shower, and we almost shared a kiss. Almost. I never stopped thinking about it, and the desire to kiss him at that moment was making my heart practically beat out of my chest.

As if my body had a mind of its own, I began leaning down, bringing myself closer to Gerard’s face. My face was inches away from his. I could feel his breath on my skin, and his full lips were close, oh so close. My heart was thundering so loud I was worried Gerard would hear it and wake up. This may have been my only chance to kiss him, and I didn’t want it to slip by. I got closer and was about to press my lips to his when Gerard’s eyes shot open.

Oh fuck, I was so screwed. I had no way to explain this. I pulled back some to looked into his startled eyes. I opened my mouth to try to say something, anything, but what the fuck could I say?

“I-I…Gerard, I’m –” my words were cut off immediately when his hand cupped the back of my head, and his free arm around my waist. Gerard pulled me down to him and embraced me in a deep soulful kiss.

I was taken aback by the sudden embrace, but not enough to pull away. When the initial shock wore off, I closed my eyes and gave back as much as Gerard was giving me. And holy fuck, was he giving me something that was literally stealing my breath away.

The kiss was not how I imagined it. I’d been kissed by many guys growing up, including Brett. I didn’t know if it would be possessive, rough and demanding like Brett’s or dull and lifeless like some of the casual flings I had to entertain my libido. I thought it would be simple but nice, like when Adam and I shared our first kiss, but it wasn’t. They all paled in comparison to the feel of Gerard’s lips on mine.

The kiss was heated, but not enough to devour me. It was filled with affection, longing, desire, wholesome. Gerard was kissing me as if he’d been waiting for centuries to do so, and now that he had me, he wanted to treasure the moment. He wanted to cherish me. I had never felt so desired by a man in all my life, and my eyes burned as if I would cry at the realization.

Was this how my father felt when he kissed Gerard? Was this how it felt to have someone kiss you like you were wanted? I couldn’t begin to comprehend how badly I wanted this moment, how much I needed it. Gerard was claiming me, and I wanted to be his.

About the Author

JM Wolf never thought he would one day say that he’s a published M/M romance author. Having a poet for a mother and a sister who once ran a blog, it was only a matter of time before JM discovered his writing genes. In the beginning, his sole purpose in life was to be a singer/songwriter. Writing lyrics was the first step putting his thoughts onto paper. Even while singing, JM always found time to dabble with writing little short stories but never thought too much about it.

Once he reached adulthood, his music dreams left him, but not the feeling for writing down what was in his mind. However, that didn’t mean music no longer played a part in JM’s life. His debut book The Black Feather was inspired by one of his favorite songs. Whether lyrics or love stories, you will always find JM’s heart and soul in every word on paper.

JM Wolf lives in Chesapeake, VA with his husband and in-laws. When he’s not writing, you can always find him reading a good book, spending time with the love of his life, or jamming out to music. He didn’t pick the world of literature, the literary world picked him.

No excuse, except for his lonely heart, a pitcher of margaritas, four Bitter Bitches, and the apparent need to confess all his weaknesses to the two men he knew would bring him nothing but trouble.

But trouble was nothing new.

Just ask his crazy sisters or any of his friends, and they’d be the first to tell you:

If there was a bad decision to be made, Robbie always had a knack for making it.

And thus begins the story of the priest, the princess, and the prick.

Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

CONFESSION

If there’s a bad decision to make, I will make it.

DRUNK-DIALING IS never a smart move. But drunk-dialing a married man? That is a monumentally stupid move.

That was the thought rolling aroundRobbie’s muddled brain as he stood with his best friend Elliot at the bar of CRUSH and tossed back his fourth Bitter Bitch. The conversation he was having with himself wasn’t a new one—or a welcome one, he thought as he swayed on his feet and kind of stumbled into the stool beside him. But forgetting his lonely life with alcohol and men who were all wrong for him seemed like an increasingly good way to cope tonight.

The hum and throb of the bass beat was rattling through him, but instead of feeling the pull he usually did to head out to the dance floor and have fun, tonight it seemed to be having the opposite effect. It was making him think really stupid thoughts.

“You’re so wasted, Bianchi,” Elliot said as he grabbed Robbie’s arm and guided him to the barstool. “What’s that? Your third shot? And how many margaritas did you have at dinner?”

Robbie held up two, then three fingers, and shrugged. “Who cares? Everyone had their New Year’s on Sunday. Tonight’s mine, and I want to celebrate.”

“If you celebrate any more, you aren’t gonna remember your first night out of the New Year.”

“Don’t care,” Robbie said, as he waved his hand through the air with flourish and leaned a little too much into the action. Luckily, Elliot was there to prop him up. “I wanna have fun tonight. Do something I shouldn’t.”

Elliot leaned his elbows back on the bar so he was facing the dance floor and said, “Why don’t you get out there and let someone do you instead? You look gorgeous tonight, darling.”

He’s right, I do look cute, Robbie thought.

In his skinny jeans and purple V-neck tee that was practically a second skin, Robbie had gone all out with smoky eyes and a new pink shade of gloss he’d bought a couple of days ago that tasted like—mmm, strawberries. He could totally hit the dance floor, find a willing man, and let him do all kinds of things. But that seemed so boring tonight, so normal, and so not what he wanted.

He wanted wild. He wanted adventure. He wanted danger. And when the two men he knew were both those things entered his mind, Robbie quickly shook his head, trying to shake them free.

Stop thinking about them, he ordered himself, but that was easier said than done. One of them was one of the sexiest men he’d ever seen, and the other the most frustrating—and what was worse was that he couldn’t have either of them even if he wanted to. What was with everyone being fucking married all of a sudden? And to each other?

But oh the dreams he’d been having lately. The three of them, all sweaty and naked;they were enough to make him want to—

No, no, no. That is the worst idea you could have, Robbie told himself. Drunk or sober.

Worst.

Idea.

Ever.

Plus, you don’t even like one of them. So stop obsessing over it.

“Earth to Robbie…” Elliot said, waving a hand, and Robbie shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m just not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mood to grind all over a naked man? Okay, where the hell is my best friend and what did you do with him?” Elliot asked as he swept his black bangs out of his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Robbie slumped forward on the bar, dramatic as ever, and looked up at Elliot from under his lashes. “I think I’m in a state of mourning, El, and I don’t know how to get out of it.”

Elliot frowned. “Is this about Logan? I thought you were happy for him and Tate?”

“I am, but— Ugh. They just got engaged, and now all of a sudden, he’s married. Married.”

“I know, babe. But you knew it was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. Knowing there are two more beautiful men off the market forever due to a ring and a piece of paper is just depressing.”

“Two more men?” Elliot said, regarding him with a suspicious eye. “Who else do you know who’s hitched?”

Julien, Robbie instantly thought, as an image of the famous chef came to mind.

Julien “the Prick” Thornton. And this time, as Julien’s name ran through Robbie’s head, he made a point to roll the Jul over his tongue the way Julien had when he’d introduced himself that night at the bar. That’s right…Julien “I’m gay, gorgeous, and, oh yeah, married to your worst enemy” Thornton. He was hitched.

“No one,” Robbie said, and pouted. Then he swiveled on the stool to look out at the men gyrating all over one another. “You go and play for the both of us. I’m going to sit here and—”

“Ferment?”

“Okay that word is too big for my brain right now,” Robbie said, and winced. “Go and feel up the muscles and men for me. Someone should get some enjoyment out of them.”

Elliot pursed his lips. “I don’t know…”

“I’m just gonna sit here. Not going anywhere,” Robbie promised, crossing a finger over his chest.

“Your heart is on the other side, genius.”

Robbie switched sides and did it again. “I’m just gonna drown my sorrows so my body hurts tomorrow and will take my mind off my broken heart.”

“Aww, cheer up, Buttercup. Your Prince Charming will come to you one day soon.”

“Well, until then”—Robbie gestured for the bartender—“I’m going to drink myself into a deep slumber in the hopes that maybe he’ll come on me, or, you know, at least kiss me back to life.”

Elliot placed a hand on Robbie’s arm. “Do not go anywhere. I’ll be back for you.”

“Lucky for you. She’d be spanking your ass right now, not to mention your sisters, and I’m sure you’d much rather have that done by a man who would then pound it afterward. I’ll be back.”

Robbie dismissed Elliot with a wave of his hand, and then took great interest in scrolling up and down his list of contacts, searching for someone to occupy his time. It wasn’t until he saw Julien’s number that he realized how drunk he was, because that was the only excuse he could think of as to why he hit call.

Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite contemporary romance, Sex Addict. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”

Mike’s life is carefully compartmentalized. He’s deep in the closet to his family back in Kansas, but lives life honestly and openly in Austin. He’s unnerved when Wes, his old university crush, turns up at his door in answer to a roommate advertisement, but quickly sees the potential…benefits of the arrangement. Wes has never doubted nor denied his sexuality. With the support of his family he’s an out and proud LGBT activist.

On the scale balancing his self-esteem on one side, and the love of his family on the other, Mike has to decide which weighs more. Is Mike being fair to his parents by not giving them the chance to know his real self? When the delicate balance of his life is disrupted, he decides he’s tired of living a lie. Will Wes understand his concerns, or will their fledgling relationship crumble under the strain of Mike’s uncertainty?

Excerpt

I walked down the narrow aisle with a book jammed under my arm and holding my carry-on bag in front of me as I focused on the labels for the rows. Due to the effect my nerves were having on my stomach, I was beginning to regret the meal I’d eaten during the two-hour layover in Houston.

I found my aisle seat, but it was occupied. Nobody sat in the window seat. This leg of my trip used a smaller plane—Wichita was hardly a bustling hub—and there were only two seats on either side of the aisle.

My shoulders stiffened, waiting for the request. My guess was he had a traveling companion, but they’d booked their flight too late to get two seats together. I’d be willing to trade, but I hoped it would at least be to another aisle seat. I wasn’t claustrophobic at all, but I preferred the freedom an aisle seat provided.

I stopped in front of my row and looked at the man, my eyebrows raised questioningly. He stood and stepped into the aisle. I opened my mouth, but wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He hadn’t moved on. He stood as if waiting to sit back down after letting me in. “I’m sorry.” I held up my boarding pass. “Apparently, there’s some confusion. This is my seat, here.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

My whole body tensed at his tone. As if he simply assumed I’d switch seats for no obvious reason beyond he preferred mine. Which frankly—dammit—was likely to happen because I was non-confrontational and this wasn’t worth the fight. But it pissed me off that he wasn’t asking, acting like it was a done deal, and he didn’t even try to offer justification. He also had the kind of smile you see on people trying to sell you a load of crap, be it a used car or a dubious political position.

“Is there a problem?” The inquiry came from behind—a male voice with a polite but firm tone.

“No problem,” the man in front of me said. The slick politician smile that had come so naturally to him now seemed strained, or rather, a mild sneer supplemented it. “We were just switching seats.”

“Sir, do you want to switch seats with this gentleman?” the flight attendant asked.

“Gentleman” was a generous term for the jerk, but points for diplomacy. I was sure the answer was obvious. I’d booked an aisle seat because that’s what I preferred. But I imagined that wasn’t the real question. I wasn’t sure if the flight attendant would rather, like me, avoid a confrontation, or if he’d like to see the pushy bastard put in his place. I knew which I’d rather see if I were a random spectator, but I wasn’t.

“I’m willing to switch.” But I refused to say I “wanted” to. It was a cop-out, but it would be miserable enough sitting next to the guy for the next couple hours without adding the possibility of his simmering hostility to the mix.

I hefted my carry-on bag into the overhead bin and sidled across to the window seat. I sat with my book in my lap and stared out the window at the tarmac, hoping it was clear I wasn’t interested in making small-talk and wished to be left alone.

The man parked himself back in the seat that should have been mine, and the flight attendant made his way toward the back of the plane.

“Jesus H. Christ. We had it under control,” the man muttered.

Apparently, being left in peace was too much to wish for. As my dad liked to say, you could wish in one hand and—

“Don’t know why that faggot felt he needed to stick his nose in our business.”

My grip on the book tightened and I spun without thinking toward the man. “Excuse me?” My tone oozed with aversion. I didn’t try to hide my feelings, so I’m sure the incredulous disgust I felt at his use of that word showed on my face as well.

Was it Wes’s influence or was I more likely to stick up for someone else than for myself? I wasn’t sure which, but I found I couldn’t let that go without expressing my repugnance at his shameless and vocal bigotry. I didn’t even know if he was simply using the word as a general derogatory insult or if he’d assumed the flight attendant was gay because of his career choice.

His lip curled as a soft snort puffed from between his thin lips. “I said, I don’t know why that fellow felt he needed to stick his nose in our business.”

That wasn’t what he’d said. I hadn’t imagined it. But I wasn’t going to pursue it. If nothing else, at least he knew his prejudice wasn’t always going to be accepted when aired in public. The more people realized it was bigotry that needed to be hidden in a closet, not the targets of it, the better the world would be. Yeah, Wes’s activism was influencing me.

I turned back to the window, closed my eyes, and counted to ten before reopening them. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with on the flight home to come out to my parents. My gut was churning enough without this added stress.

I’d been rather proud of how I’d managed to push aside my uncertainties the past two weeks and return to being my regular normal self. Right up until it had been time to head to the airport, anyway. I’d studied Wes’s pamphlets, and Greg had taken a set of them home, too, so he could be prepared on my behalf. That alone had taken a huge share of the weight off my shoulders.

Even so, now that the big moment was looming, it took a concerted effort to not be that jittery guy on the plane that everyone kept an eye on, waiting for them to crack and brandish a nail file that had slipped by security. Sure, there was a good chance everything would be fine. But there was still a possibility that my relationship with my parents would never be the same, and there was a huge sliding scale of degree for that potential unpleasantness.

Would my dad react similarly to the man sitting next to me? Under pressure, faced with his son admitting to being gay after he’d spent years talking about how wrong he felt that was, would he crack? He’d never used that word—“faggot.” He’d never used any kind of derogatory word.

Thinking back, I knew Greg was probably right about Dad’s apparent angle during his campaign to convince me it would be wrong to be gay. It all boiled down to the motivations behind his efforts. Was it as simple as he’d convinced himself I was making a choice, and wanted the best possible life for me, or did he think there was something intrinsically wrong—sordid, contemptible—with being gay?

Would I lose his respect? His love? Would holidays forevermore be tense? Helen was on my side, thank goodness, but what if Dad were to become convinced that I couldn’t be trusted around her two young children?

I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but it couldn’t keep my mind from picturing him mining for all his arguments from only websites that were biased against LGBTQI+ people and not seeking the truth from a fair balance of sources. If that was the case, then there’d be a good chance he’d bought into a lot of the bullshit they were peddling. The fact he’d held off saying the more disparaging claims didn’t mean he hadn’t read them and thought there might be something to them.

The plane taxied down the runway and took off, and I turned my gaze to my book. I’d brought Andy Weir’s The Martian because I’d read it before and loved it, and I’d figured I might be distracted, so it’d be best not to try to follow a new story.

I opened the book, read the first three lines with the character thinking he was “pretty much fucked,” and closed it again. I didn’t believe in omens, but that summed up how I felt. It was just a question of degree.

About Addison

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

Note from the author: This is a Dark Romance. If you do not like dark themes this book may not be for you. Suitable for audiences 18+ due to content.

The f*cking lights. They are all I can remember. Everywhere I turn I see them. They haunt my dreams, and now my reality. She liked the lights. I do remember that. It was part of her life, and in turn a part of mine, until the day I forgot it all.

They say your childhood paves the way to adulthood, and maybe it does. I know mine was lit up in flames. I walked the roads of Hell until I figured out that the only way to survive was to exist under a cloak of darkness—to deal with the devil himself. It was the only way to escape the pain, the torment. But the nightmares are still very real. They’ll never leave me alone. The shadows of solitude follow me wherever I go.

Weapons—they can be anything I need them to be. Unlike people in my life, they are predictable, dependable. Without any effort they can cause so much destruction, but also so much peace. Through the internal chaos, the anger that won’t cease, and the constant noise, everything is silenced with the pull of the trigger.

Ink—I’ve loved it since I can remember. It defines me. It’s my release. When I feel like I’m about to blow I turn to the needle. It is the one high I need. I brand people. It’s what I do. Kross Brannon is the best there is when it comes to tattoos. The success of my company proves it.

But I never teach. Those that work for me learn from someone else. I’m a solo artist. Always have been and always will be…but then I looked up and saw her, standing in my shop, beautiful, tattooed, and her soul screaming for me to reach out. She was a force of nature I couldn’t turn away.

I found books when I was going through a hard time in life. They became my means of escape when things got bad. I realized quickly how much I loved to take a backseat to someone else’s life and watch the journey unfold. That began my journey with books in November of 2012. I constantly had a book open on my Kindle app.

Never in a million years would I have imagined myself as a writer, because I never thought I was creative enough. I’m living proof that things will fall into place when they’re meant to be. People will make their way into our lives when we don’t expect it, setting the path for what we are meant to do. Never give up on people. Never stop taking a chance on others.

Someone took a chance on trusting me with her work when she didn’t know me from a stranger on the street and gave me the opportunity of a lifetime as our relationship progressed, which led me to editing and writing as well. This is my dream I never knew I had. As soon as I sat down and gave writing a shot, it was like the floodgates opened.

Now, I am lost in a world of fiction in my head, new characters constantly screaming for their stories to be told. Continue to dream and to go for them. No one ever found happiness by sitting on the sidelines. Sometimes we have to take risks and put ourselves out there. Thank you for all of your support, and may there be many books to come. XOXO- C

This is a novella length which means Rhys Ford has a lot of work to do in both establishing the world building for the start of a new series but also giving the reader a fully rounded romance with the main characters here. I think, in the main, this is achieved and achieved well.

I liked the twist on the werewolf trope and the way in which she approached the set-up for what’s going to be a connected set of characters and I liked both Gibson and Zach, the romantic pairing. I loved Ellis, Gibson’s brother, who is really the main focus of this whole story.

The setup for the meet/cute was a brilliant way to open up the book, full of action and giving the reader lots of questions from the off but there was also a fair bit of time when not a lot happened and perhaps a bit too much of the book’s narrative was handed over to the two men dealing with Ellis and his predicament.

I would have liked a bit more actual romance between the two men, their attraction is obvious but we get nothing on page until almost the end of the book and even then, it’s more of a casual reference to the fact they’ve been getting it on. I don’t necessarily need graphic sex scenes but I would like to have an indication that there’s a physical relationship as well as the friendship!

The language, as expected from this author, is beautifully lyrical, descriptive and making full use of all the flowery emoting that is the norm. This book is also very funny as well and I know a few friends have quoted one of the scenes which was a highlight for me too:

Zach’s elbow got caught on his sweatshirt, and Gibson nearly kneed him trying to get his pants down. One of their plates landed on the floor, either hit by Gibson’s foot or possibly Zach’s underwear when it flew off of Gibson’s finger as he twirled it around. There was a brief scramble toward the fireplace, as it appeared one of the couch’s throw pillows was headed straight for the flames when thrown off to make room…

All in all this was a success for me and now I’m wanting to know more about this world, where Ellis goes next, what happens with Pat and more about the fabulous couple Ruth and Martha.

Also – how fabulous is this cover?! I’m not usually one for being attracted to a book just because of the cover, I like to go on the blurb usually, but this one absolutely caught my eye on Dreamspinner’s website when I first saw it.

#ARC kindly provided by the publishers Dreamspinner Press in return for an honest and unbiased review

Blurb

When Dashiell Slater uses his fists to stop a vicious assault, the last thing he expects is to be offered a job as reward for being a Good Samaritan. Out of work and short of cash, all he has to do is chauffeur Billy around. It’s easy money so saying yes should be a no-brainer. And if the offer’s not quite legal, so what?

Dashiell’s smart and savvy, and knows how the world works. But there are strings attached, and Dashiell doesn’t want to get entangled. He’s ready to say no and walk away – until he sees the fear, despair and fathomless sadness in Billy’s jade-green eyes.

“He was everything I wanted, but couldn’t have. What was the use in dreaming when I was already bought and paid for, the property of another man?”

Billy’s life is a daily round of fear and abuse. One wrong word or one wrong look can mean a beating, or worse. Dashiell’s everything Billy’s heart craves – a man who’ll love and protect him, who’ll keep him safe and catch him when he falls. But Billy can’t have what he yearns for, because to give in to his heart means breaking a promise he’s vowed to keep at all costs.

A soul-searing kiss, a whispered promise, and the chance of a future together is there for the taking. But life is never that simple and danger surrounds them at every turn. Imprisoned by devotion, duty and obligation, Billy’s heart is captive, but can falling for Dashiell finally set it free?

Excerpt

“It really does look better.” Dashiell smiled and touched the bruise with gentle fingers, and this time I didn’t flinch.

“You need to eat, and then get some more sleep because you look worn out,” he said as he pulled open one of the cupboards.

“No, I don’t want—”

“You need to eat. Just a bit of soup, that’s all I’m asking.”

He wasn’t pushing, and he’d done so much for me it felt kind of wrong to say no, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a little something.

A couple of minutes later a bowl was placed in front of me, at the table. I didn’t have the strength to argue about not wanting it, he was trying to look after me, and all I had to do was let him.

“No arguments.” He had a mock stern don’t-mess-with-me look on his face.

“As if I would.” I spooned up some of the soup, and though I had no idea how much of it I’d be able to eat I was determined to try, but my hand was shaking and most of it dribbled back into the bowl.

Without saying anything, Dashiell took the spoon from me, dipped it into the soup and held it to my lips. I was twenty-three, and being fed like a baby but I didn’t care or put up any resistance. What should have been awkward and embarrassing wasn’t. How could it have been, not when he’d already seen the shameful way Frankie treated me, and had dealt with the results? After that, being fed from his hand faded into nothing.

I nibbled at the soupy bread he tempted me with but it wasn’t long before I was shaking my head. I didn’t have much, but I felt better for it though I knew the real reason for that was having Dashiell next to me. I sighed and sagged back into my seat. Dashiell scraped his chair closer, and snaked an arm around my shoulders and without even thinking I settled into him and closed my eyes as he swept his fingers through my hair. The house was quiet. There was no Frankie barking orders and no zombies jumping to them. With the rhythmic back and forth of Dashiell’s fingers, there was only that moment. What should have happened next was that he kissed me, but he didn’t, and I was kind of glad of that. I’d have kissed him back, no question, but that wasn’t what I needed. It was his warmth, and strength, and just knowing he was there.

“Come on,” he said, helping me up. “The best thing for you is sleep.”

I nodded, too tired for words, as I let him lead me out of the kitchen and upstairs.

About the Author

If you’ve a yearning for stories about complex men who make bad choices and wrong decisions, I’m your woman. Readers tell me they want to shout at my men, and shake some sense into them, before giving them a hug and a good talking to. And yes, I’m responsible for more than one repair bill to an ereader or smartphone that’s been thrown against a wall!

But who said the road to a HEA was an easy one? Not me, that’s for sure. I make my men suffer, I put them through the wringer, I cause them to trip up… but in the end they come through despite all my best, and worst, efforts.

So where will you find me putting words on the page? In my favourite café, that’s where. A walk across the park, or an early swim, before I settle down with a steaming hot coffee, ready to make my characters’ lives hell. My stories are set largley in London, the city I was born and raised in, but I now live somewhere quiter and greener just outside.

I’ve no kids, or pets, but I do have a husband and as long as I keep him fed and watered he leaves me alone so I can spend time making life difficult for the men in my head rather than the man in my life.

Despite multiple degrees and business success, in his heart Jeremy Strauss feels he’s never measured up. While he hasn’t lacked for men or women to share his bed, Jeremy has yet to find someone who sees beyond his muscles and perfect smile.

Taking it slow with a lover isn’t how he operates, but something about the shy accountant he rescues in a snowstorm makes him want this time to be different.

So what if Blake drops little comments here and there about Jeremy’s pretty face? Their relationship is perfect.

Or is it?

Lonely most of his life, Blake Myers is as careful with his heart as he is with a balance sheet. The last thing he expects is for a man like Jeremy to fall for him, and he can’t help but wait for the bubble to burst on their relationship.

When the stress of a professional crisis turns personal, Blake sees the perfect relationship he and Jeremy have built start to crumble. Caught in an ever-tightening web of lies, rather than wait for Jeremy to leave him, Blake breaks it off and vanishes.

Perfection is an illusion.

Jeremy doesn’t know which way to turn and for the first time in his life, he’s lost and uncertain. Believing he’s no longer the man Jeremy needs, Blake sinks deeper into despair.

Both men struggle with secrets, lies, and hurtful memories until they are forced to look inside their hearts and learn the truth—that love is perfectly imperfect.

His pulse sped up. “Be right there.” Jeremy ran a hand through his hair and walked out of his office to the front desk. In his suit and tie and dark wool overcoat, Blake looked sexy and sophisticated. Jeremy felt like an underdressed slob in his sweats and T-shirt. His heart pounded, and his palms turned sweaty. What the hell was happening to him?

“Hey. I’m here.”

When their eyes met, Blake’s face lit up, and he smiled. “Hi. This place is great. I can’t believe you started it from scratch.”

“Yep. I did.” Seeing the curious glances of both Benny and Gino, Jeremy took Blake’s hand in his. “Guys. This is my boyfriend, Blake. Blake.” He squeezed Blake’s hand. “The dark-haired guy is Gino, and the redhead is Benny. They’re my right-hand men.”

“Nice to meet you both.”

Gino gaped at him. “Boyfriend? You never said you were even dating anyone.”

“I didn’t realize I owed you an explanation.” Jeremy chuckled and shook his head. “Blake and I are going back to my office, so unless it’s my brother or the mayor, no interruptions. Got it?”

They nodded, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes, but he ignored them and pulled Blake along, anxious to be alone with him.

He pushed Blake into his office and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it. “Finally. I’ve been waiting all day to do this.”

He covered Blake’s mouth with his and kissed him deep and hard, his tongue pressing at the seam of Blake’s lips. For a moment, Blake stiffened, but when Jeremy slipped his tongue inside, Blake grabbed on to his shoulder and began to kiss him back with equal fervor.

“Mmmm. That’s better.” His hands sure and steady, Jeremy first pushed off Blake’s coat and suit jacket, then loosened his tie. “Wanna know what sexy fantasies I’ve been having all day since you said you were coming over?”

He watched Blake’s eyes glaze over with lust. Jeremy was more than willing to make Blake’s fantasy a reality. Getting him off in semi-public was hot as hell, and the desire Jeremy stemmed all day burst free. He wanted Blake. Now.

“And I won’t answer because I’ll be too busy being inside you. Come on. Get naked.”

Author Bio:

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I have always been a romantic at heart. I believe that while life is tough, there is always a happy ending around the corner, My characters have to work for it, however. Like life in NYC, nothing comes easy and that includes love, but getting there is oh so fun and oh so sexy.

I live in New York City with my husband and two children. My day begins with a lot of caffeine and ends with a glass (or two of red wine). I practice law but daydream of a time when I can sit by a beach somewhere and write beautiful stories of men falling in love. Although there are bound to be a few bumps along the way, a Happily Ever After is always guaranteed.